


binds are like steel that manipulate the will to live (body suspended by chains over razors and nails, it's a penalty)

by Clamat_Submissa



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Blood Play, Caging, Collar, Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, Fingerfucking, Fisting, Heavy BDSM, Heavy Bondage, I DECIDED TO TRY SOME NEW THINGS SO, Knife Play, M/M, Master/Slave, Master/Slave dynamics, Power Play, Riding, Rimming, Subdrop, Subspace, Teabagging, Teasing, a bit of fluff but not much, blowjob, breath play, but not really, dom!Louis, faceriding, handjob, heavy restrictions, i think this is it woo, male Brazilian wax, master!louis, not much, slave!harry, slight very very slight almost unnoticeable mention of a bit of fire play but not really, sub!Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 20:38:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clamat_Submissa/pseuds/Clamat_Submissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em> When on their way to the mansion Louis asks, “Who are you?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>  <em> He hears the slave shift in his seat. “‘M Harry.” </em></p><p> </p><p><em> "Wrong," Louis states. "You’re my bitch." </em><br/>-<br/>Or, Harry's a slave and Louis is his master.</p>
            </blockquote>





	binds are like steel that manipulate the will to live (body suspended by chains over razors and nails, it's a penalty)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [my lover Alex ♥](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=my+lover+Alex+%E2%99%A5).



> First of all, I want to thank [Olivia](http://chocolate-shreddies.tumblr.com) and [Lottie](http://frillylouis.tumblr.com) for beta'ing this fic for me, they're really effing amazing and I love them lots ♥
> 
> Dedicated to my secret, clandestine lover [Alex](http://solojerk.tumblr.com) because this was written based on one of his rants ;)
> 
> So I really hope you guys like this, I worked on it for a month and I've got to say, I'm pretty proud of it :) So yeah! Hope you all liikkkeeeeee iiiittttt!
> 
> Feedback appreciated on my tumblr, [soulflares](http://soulflares.tumblr.com)

He’s at the slave auction for the first time without his father, and Louis can’t remember a time when he felt as disappointed as he does right now.

So far all of the slaves that have been presented in this seemingly underground bar are either too skinny or too fat or too ugly. He sighs and takes his phone out, sending Liam a text to ask if he’s completely sure he got his current slave, Zayn, here. When he confirms Louis huffs angrily. Why does Liam get to have such a pretty slave and Louis doesn’t? Sure, he has Eleanor -who’s quite pretty- but she can’t satisfy all of his needs. He likes guys, and cocks, and she doesn't fit either.

And that’s why he’s here. This is strictly a sex slave auction, and he had hoped to find someone as pretty as Zayn for himself but he now doubts if he’ll ever, in this place. He stays, though, to see if he’ll be proven wrong eventually.

And, boy, is he ever.

After another eight enslaved girls are auctioned Louis is finally fed up. He’s wasting his time here, that’s been pretty clear from the start, so he makes his way to the door but stops when the host announces they’re about to auction “the best of the night, I assure you!”.

And, oh, okay, the lad that comes out is absolutely gorgeous. He’s tall, really tall, clearly towering at about six feet, has curly brown hair and chiseled features. Green eyes, sharp jaw, sinful lips, marked and toned torso, large hands and biceps, and a deliciously huge cock to match.

He _has_ to have him.

But apparently he isn’t the only one interested in the human yeti. People are going crazy, bidding thousands and thousands for the slave who has submissively hung his head down. He’s too beautiful to belong to anyone else, Louis is sure, so he does something drastic.

"Five hundred million."

Everyone falls silent at that, shocked- hell, even the slave is looking at him wide-eyed. It’s too much money, especially for something as low and measly as a _slave_.

"Are you sure, sir?" The host asks. "That’s a lot of money-"

"Do you think I care? I can afford it," Louis answers, cutting the host off. He then looks at the slave who still hasn’t torn his gaze from Louis and murmurs, "you’re worth that and more, love."

The slave, whose number was 901204, blushes and smiles slightly, looking even more beautiful, and Louis knows right there and then that he won’t regret his decision.

Once all of the arrangements are made and he finishes signing and paying he leads the slave to his car. Unlike the rest of the idiots inside he brought his own car, feeling more comfortable driving himself to places than letting someone know where he’s going all the time.

When on their way to the mansion Louis asks, “Who are you?”

He hears the slave shift in his seat. “‘M Harry.”

"Wrong," Louis states. "You’re my bitch."

++

Louis has always been a man of anticipation. He loves to make whoever he’s about to fuck quiver and shiver in want, desire, impatience. He loves to let them twitch in desperation because they _know_ something’s bound to happen but don’t know when, where or how.

That’s why Louis hasn’t even touched Harry for two weeks. He just once ordered Harry to do stuff he knows would have left him sexually frustrated, which isn’t hard to do: Harry’s a sadomasochistic slave, and Louis has a pain kink.

On the fourth day of arrival (it’s customary to let the newly bought slave get used to their new master’s house for the first three days) Louis orders Harry to bring wax, ready to be used, to his room.

It's a weird and perhaps cryptic order for a sex slave, but he is, after all, a slave; therefore he has to follow orders, not question them.

Once the beautiful slave enters Louis’s chamber, almost stumbling while dragging a cart with two large bowls with steam emitting out of them, the older man immediately detects his shuddering (whether from fear or anticipation he doesn’t know). But Harry has yet to learn something about Louis: he’s unpredictable.

"Give me a whole body wax," Louis demands and almost laughs at Harry’s perplexed countenance. However, he has to remain stoic and strict, never letting down the image of dominance.

"Well? Get on with it, bitch."

Harry hangs his head down in shame at the name and nods. “Yes, master.”

Louis smiles at that and takes the bed covers off of his body, revealing his naked form. He sees Harry gape at him for a moment before shaking his head and pushing the cart close to where Louis is situating himself (which is on a massage table), taking the top off of one of the bowls that contains the hot liquid. He bites his lip as he looks back and forth from the pot to Louis’s already hairless body (Louis doesn’t like hair on his body so he shaves at least once every two days), clearly unsure as of how to do this. But with another reprimand of “I don’t have all day so you better fucking do something before I stand up and hit you” he’s quick to carefully spill some of the wax onto Louis’s chest.

Louis hisses from beneath him because, _fuck_ , that’s hot. He struggles with staying still but with one look to Harry’s slowly darkening eyes he’s easy to settle down. That is the plan, after all; to tease Harry (and, of course, to leave him achingly hard).

After spreading the wax as much as he can over the possibly-slightly-hairy parts of Louis’s torso, Harry places some of the strips that are conveniently in one of the cart drawers over the hardening liquid. Louis shuts his eyes because he knows what’s about to come, but he doesn’t think anything would have prepared him for such a stinging pain.

"Bloody hell," he hisses, his hands tightly gripping at the sides of the table, his back arching due to the pain. He can feel Harry’s now trembling hands gliding across the slowly reddening skin as if to soothe it (but really it’s just to touch it because he’s semi-hard now and his skin looks so golden).

When Harry comes out of his trance he continues with the work, waxing Louis’s arms, under arms, legs, knuckles- almost everything except the face (“ _you dare touch my face and I swear to God I’ll make you wish you were never born_ ”) and Harry’s so hard that it hurts too much and he doesn’t think he’s thinking straight, which requires to think and gives him a headache because he can’t really think with his cock this hard. It isn’t his fault, not really, because every time he tears a strip off Louis hisses, whimpers or moans and that just isn’t fair.

All that’s left is Louis’s bum and, uh, private area (which is semi-hard, making Harry feel alleviated at not being the only one affected by this). The first pot of wax is already empty so he uncaps the second one. However, before doing anything he shyly looks at Louis with a questioning gaze, silently asking if he should carry on. Louis glares at him and sits up, yanking Harry’s hair harshly towards him so that his mouth is specifically against his ear, making Harry whimper in pain but also in pleasure.

"You don’t fucking stop unless I tell you to stop, got it?" He whispers threateningly and Harry nods frantically, wanting to finish this as quickly as possible so that he can wank off.

Louis releases him with a harsh push, resulting in Harry almost tumbling towards the cart and crashing it. Luckily, though, his pigeon feet seem to work sometimes and he stops before any serious damage can occur.

He sighs and grabs the pot, leaning over Louis’s carefully as he cautiously pours the hot substance over the areas that are normally found hairy (but Louis’s aren’t, the guy is entirely hairless, so Harry knows that this was just a scheme to torture him). He avoids Louis’s dick at all costs but whimpers when he strips off the area on top of it. Louis’s back arches once more and his hands go to his own hair, pulling it harshly to try and calm down, and his cock’s completely hard now and- oh, okay, how is Harry supposed to concentrate now?

He can’t keep waxing him because what’s left is the shaft, and he can’t properly wax it without holding his hard cock. Harry lets out a string of curses under his breath as he takes hold of Louis’s large dick, quickly stripping off what’s left.

Louis can’t stop the moan that comes out of his lips at the touch. It was nothing, just a grip, but Harry’s hand is big and calloused and cool, and it feels so good on his hot member. And, of course, that moan goes straight to Harry’s cock, which twitches at the high-pitched sound.

Harry breathes in deeply thrice to calm himself down as much as he can while he gently flips Louis over, wanting to get this last part over with as quickly as possible. But if waxing Louis’s dick got Harry hard, he doesn’t know what he’ll do once he starts Louis’s bum.

It’s big and just fucking precious, and it’s soft and warm as Harry lays a hand on it. He massages it softly (to relax the muscle, he assures himself) and Louis is positively keening- something he would never admit to.

Harry bites his lip as he realizes that for him to wax his bum Louis’s hole has to be exposed and, well, he’s not sure he can handle that. He can’t get the necessary exposure from this position so he pokes Louis’s leg to get his attention and ask if it’s okay, but Louis just shrugs and answers “do what you must.”

So Harry lifts his thighs so that his knees are bent, and places them softly on the table. His legs are separated now, and Louis’s hole is out in the open.

It’s pretty and pink and fluttering from the feeling of air passing carelessly over it. Harry bites his lip down harder as Louis shivers from the exposure and doesn’t stop until he’s applied the wax over Louis’s hole, from top to bottom.

When he takes the strip off Louis yells from pain and Harry almost comes. The area is reddening and it looks extremely tender, and he just wants to run his fingers lightly over it to see if he can feel the sting as well (oh how he wants to feel the sting).

Louis’s chest is moving up and down heavily, trying to stop the tears he’d never admit are there from falling. He needs to regain his composure, he _needs_ to, because he’s the master here and he can’t seem weak. Ever.

After a few seconds Louis think he’s regained enough control over himself to slowly get off the table and stand up straight. He doesn’t say anything as he walks towards the dresser and takes a silky set of pajamas out, putting it on with no so much as a glance towards the slave, who remains in the position he was left with his hands twitching, clearly eager to do something about his painful hard on.

Louis smirks while he gets an idea. He lays on his bed and dismisses Harry. “You can go now, bitch.”

Harry once again winces but nods, making his way to the door with large steps. When he’s almost at the door Louis yells out, “oh, and don’t you dare get yourself off. I’ll know if you do, there are cameras all around.”

He can hear Harry let out a dry sob but sees him nod before he’s completely out. He sighs in satisfaction and positions himself comfortably to rest.

And Harry, well, Harry finds ways to get distracted long enough for his cock to go soft, which is an arduous task in itself.

++

Louis, after that, doesn't do anything- not even give a simple direct order. Whatever he wants Harry to do (which isn’t much, since he’s just a sex slave) he orders Eleanor to inform him. And he knows, he _knows_ , that Harry’s been on edge ever since.

Every time he enters a room when he’s there, he sees how Harry’s body tenses up and how his fingers start to twitch. He sees how Harry’s gaze rests upon him with want. And that’s how he knows he’s succeeded.

So when Harry yelps in surprise and shock when Louis addresses him directly, Louis’s expecting it.

"Why the screaming, little one?"

"Little one? I’m bigger than you-"

A deafening slap echoes in the room. Harry’s face is cast downward, his cheek red and marked with Louis’s (admittedly small) hand print.

"Don’t talk unless you’re prompted to. Am I understood?"

Harry nods and goes to get away but Louis grabs his arm and stops him from moving. “I asked, am I understood?”

"Yes, master." Harry answers, the bitterness barely masked but Louis decides to be nice and ignores him.

Louis goes to sit in the counter and is about to make Harry cook him something when he sees that the slave has already left.

“ _Ex-fucking-cuse me_?” Louis exhales sharply. He jumps down and sprints towards the door, having to run half around the mansion before finding Harry (god knows how he got there quickly). But as soon as he finds him Louis can feel the hot red heat flashes of anger bubble consume his entire being.

Harry’s standing there, talking to Eleanor about who knows what when Eleanor’s face visibly contorts into one of worry as her gaze falls upon a very, very angry Louis.

"Be careful, Haz, he seems livid-"

"What the fuck!" Louis cuts her off, grabbing Harry’s hair and pulling it harshly, making him whimper (in pain or in pleasure, he’s not sure) while Louis dragged his head down until they were at eye level. Eleanor knows better than to stay, so she quickly scurries off without so much as a glance back.

Louis tries to looks at Harry in the eyes but the slave has them closed. He brings his other hand and slaps Harry with it, hard.

"Open your eyes, you fucking bitch!"

Harry complies, wincing imperceptibly at the name (like always). But he isn’t looking straight, so Louis pulls down on his hair once more until he _has_ to.

"So," Louis starts out, his voice low yet not soft. "Who the fuck said you could leave?"

"Well, I-"

"Did I fucking say you could speak?" He tugged on his hair even more, causing Harry to let out a strangled moan. Fucking sadomasochistic prick.

"You know, I’d normally punish you by now," Louis says, not giving a chance for Harry to retaliate in any way (not that he wants him to anyway). "But I’m feeling merciful. So go, but know better next time."

He lets Harry’s hair go and starts walking when he hears Harry mumble under his breath something along the lines of “self-righteous twat”.

And that’s it.

Louis turns back and pushes Harry against the nearest wall, his hands going immediately to his neck.

"What did you say?" He asks menacingly, and he knows he shouldn’t expect him to answer but he’s not being nice anymore.

He pushes Harry once more, this time by his throat, making his breath definitely falter. “I asked, what did you say?”

Harry can’t talk -hell, he can barely breathe- but he at least mouths, “Nothing.”

Louis has had enough.

"Eleanor!" He shrieks and the petite slave comes out of what he suspects is the kitchen (his house is too big for him to keep track of where everything is).

She bows her head slightly and almost falls when Louis literally throws Harry at her.

"Take him to the chambers at the end of the left hallway. You know which one I’m talking about. Dress him up with number two, and get him ready."

He sees Eleanor’s eyes widen as she fearfully nods, carefully yet quickly taking Harry to his destination, apparently whispering some things to him but Louis couldn’t care less.

He's going to have _a lot_ of fun.

++

Two hours later Louis’s on his way to the room. Harry should be ready by now, or else Louis's going to be extremely pissed.

Despite his cool demeanor he's actually quite anxious. He doesn’t use number two much, just for slaves he thinks could pull it off. And with Harry’s legs, well. If he doesn’t pull it off, nobody can.

He opens the door and his eyes immediately settle on the slave, who’s struggling and groaning slightly. They shift once to look at the table next to him, making sure it has everything he’ll need before going back to the slave.

"If you keep struggling, the cuffs will just get tighter and tighter," Louis states in a mocking tone while he takes his clothes off. Harry stops immediately and looks at him, his cheeks tinged pink and flushed, clearly embarrassed over his situation. And, well, who can blame him?

He’s spread starfish-like and naked over the bed, wrists and ankles tied by cuffs with the corresponding bed corners, and his cock was hard- painfully so. His face is painted with light makeup, his lips being the contrasting factor with the bold, strong red smeared on them. And his legs- fuck, Louis was right. He _does_ pull it off (not that there was any doubt).

His long, lean legs are covered by black, lace fishnet tights. The tights cling to his skin like they’re part of it, and it shows them off beautifully.

"Fuck," Louis can’t help but murmur. He walks forward and places a hand on one of Harry’s thighs, stroking it softly, feeling the silky material melt under his touch.

Harry’s thighs are quivering, clearly in anticipation (which makes Louis extremely glad) and his whole body is trembling. Louis runs his finger lightly on where the tights start, teasing a bit before moving his hand to Harry’s cock.

Harry gasps slightly and throws his head back, feeling alleviated at Louis’s cold yet faltering touch. Louis smirks and wraps his hand around it, slowly stroking as he watches Harry’s expression.

"Did Eleanor do this?"

Harry musters enough self-control from who knows where to look confusedly at Louis. Louis glances down at him and adds, “Did Eleanor make you hard?”

Harry’s eyes widen and he shakes his head, thinking about answering before remembering that Louis might hit him if he does. However, when Louis nods at him he takes it as permission. “No, no.”

"Then what did?" Louis asks. "You don’t get this hard by staying immobile on a bed."

"I-I was thinking of you."

Louis smirks at that and stops his movements, gripping Harry’s cock softly at first but tightening the hold as time passed on. “Of me?”

"Yes," Harry chokes out. "About w-what you’d be doing. To me."

"Hm," Louis hums and continues his movements. Harry groans and moves his head to the side, his face planted on the sheets, nuzzling into them as he tries to gain some control. Harry seems to remember then that he has makeup on and quickly shifts his head, but the damage is already done; most of his makeup is smeared on the sheets, and he guesses that there’s not much left on his face.

"It’s okay," Louis says once he sees Harry’s worried face. "You’re too manly for makeup anyway, looked horrible."

Harry laughs and- no, Louis can’t have that. He has his cock in his hand, for god’s sake! So he hastily quickens his jerks, hand going up and down strikingly fast. Harry chokes once more and lets out a guttural moan, his hands and legs straining from trying too hard to remain immobile.

"Do you know why you’re here?" Louis questions but Harry doesn’t answer, too focused on the pleasure he’s receiving to even acknowledge the question. Louis stops his hand suddenly and grips Harry’s cock once again, but this time much harder.

He hears Harry let out a cry of pain but pays it no mind. “I asked, do you know why you’re here?”

Harry nods hastily and Louis hums. “And why’s that?”

"B-because I, uh, mumbled. Bad things. Mumbled bad things."

Louis hums again. “That’s correct, but you won’t do it again, right? You’ll be a good slave for your master?”

Harry nod frantically once more. “Yes, master.”

"Good," he replies while taking his hand off and getting on the bed, straddling Harry with his knees on each side of Harry’s waist, the lower part of his legs lined against the silky material of the tights. "We’re going to have some fun, aren't we?"

As Louis leans down to press a kiss on Harry’s really red lips he reads his lips. “Yes, Louis.”

And, wow, this slave’s _really_ defiant.

Louis’s hand go to Harry’s hair and he pushes it down harshly, making his head go back as well, his milky neck beautifully exposed. “Did I give you permission to call me that?”

Without giving him a chance to respond he tuts, pushing down even more, loving Harry’s groans of pain as he does so. Louis leans over and whispers in his ear, “By the end of this, you won’t remember my name. Hell, you won’t even remember your own name.”

Louis then goes and kisses Harry hard, his tongue plunging in Harry’s forcefully open mouth without a warning. The kiss is filthy, messy, saliva-slicked, and hot. He doesn’t give Harry a chance to breathe or to respond, he just keeps on going, satisfying his own greedy desire. When Louis’s tongue is far in enough to make Harry actually choke he reaches blindly over to the table, running his hand over the objects before grabbing the one he wants.

He pulls back, saliva dangling between their mouths, and Harry takes a deep, desperate breath, feeling like his lungs are completely empty (which is true; Louis literally took his breath away). But before Harry can regain breathe enough to remain calm Louis wraps a ball gag around his mouth and he starts choking on the ball, feeling a bit of saliva already running down his chin.

"Mm, you look so pretty," Louis murmured while he kisses his jaw, making his way down his neck.

Harry lets out a whine from deep within his throat when Louis mouths at his Adam’s apple, wanting to tangle his fingers in his soft-looking hair but realizing he’s restrained from doing so. Louis finds Harry’s sweet spot just a bit lower from his Adam’s apple and he nips at it harshly, sucking until he’s sure he’s left a bruise. As he does so, he slips one of his hands to Harry’s cock- which is pressing against his lower stomach.

Harry lets out a muffled moan at the mere touch and Louis smirks at him, going forward to lick his cheek. “You have such a beautiful big cock, you know that?”

As he says this he starts going down on Harry, slowly lowering by leaving a trail of possessive marks all over his neck, chest, lower abdomen, and even crotch. When he finally arrives to Harry’s cock he teasingly blows a little air on the head, the cool air making Harry involuntarily thrust forward- to which Louis responds by immediately taking his hand from it and presses it on his hip, doing the same with his other one to stop him from moving.

"Tsk, tsk, you pesky little whore. So anxious, aren’t you?" He teasingly remarks as he licks short stripes over the head. "Can’t wait for my lips to be around that large cock?"

Harry noticeably tries to say something but has to settle with just groaning because of the ball gag.

"Have you had many?" Louis questions as his breath now ghosts the entire length. "Masters, that is. Have you had many masters?"

Harry knows he can’t verbally answer so he nods, answering Louis’s question. Louis looks at him quickly with a hardened gaze and says, “Well, I assure you no one has made you feel like I’m going to now.”

And with that he takes Harry completely in, deep-throating him from the first try. Harry lurches forward at the sudden action and his back arches as he lets a loud moan out. His chest is already heaving up and down harsh and desperately, and the veins on his neck are bulging.

Louis keeps a rapid rhythm, his head bobbing up and down in quick moves while his left hand moves from his hip to his balls and he lightly strokes them in synch. When he reaches the base he sucks a bit harder, hollowing his cheeks to permit the head hit the back of his throat.

Harry’s letting out muffled screams, and his thighs are positively quaking -an obvious sign of wanting release- so Louis reaches out once more to the table until he finds what he’s looking for: a flogger.

Louis whips it to his chest as he sucks Harry, stimulating Harry’s body in both pain and pleasure. Harry’s breathing gets shallower and he’s struggling more, which Louis knows means that he’s about to reach his peak; therefore, he takes his mouth off and shakes his head at Harry tauntingly.

"You can’t come, not until I say so," he orders and Louis swears he sees tears rolling down his cheeks.

He grips the flogger tightly and starts whipping Harry again, but this time not only on his chest but on his thighs and face as well. Every time Harry’s cheeks are hit he absolutely fumes, growling deeply loud enough to be heard despite the gag at Louis as he gets impossibly harder.

Louis laughs at how Harry tries to be strong but it’s obvious this is turning him on.

Harry’s skin is entirely red and tender, and when Louis reaches over to his cock once more and scrapes his nails roughly over it, his body’s spasming, a clear indicative that he’s not only close, but about to come.

Therefore, Louis stops definitively.

Harry whines and cries harder, his chest heaving and his body lunging forward instinctively. Louis smiles mockingly at him and says, “I don’t trust you to not come.”

When he finishes, he grabs the plastic cock ring from the table and puts it roughly over Harry’s cock. Harry keeps spasming and crying because _he can’t come and he really, really needs to_.

Harry’s had his fair bondage treatments, but none like this. The farthest a master has gone with him before as in BDSM was when they tied his hands to a headboard and fucked him without prep, but that’s it. None have been _this_ agonizing, and it hurts but feels really good because Harry’s out of it. He’s already really out of it and he fears he’ll go down, and he doesn’t know if Louis knows how to manage.

But if Louis is doing this to him, he prays that he does know.

Louis snaps him out of his daze by continuing the hand job from before and now it’s hurting more than pleasing. Louis notices that Harry’s now downright crying, not just from pleasure, so he figures he should do something about it.

He straddles Harry once more and situates himself meticulously over him so his cock is brushing over Harry’s. He starts slowly grinding on him, moving his hips forward and back to create the perfect friction. Harry moans and struggles with the cuffs by moving too much, and Louis just keeps on going and going until he, personally, needs _more_.

So he stops for a moment and situates himself a bit lower over Harry’s body, his bum resting on Harry’s tight-covered thighs as he grabs the lube from the table. He carefully slicks his three of his fingers because even though he has a pain kink hurting this much isn’t something he aims for.

Harry’s looking at him wide-eyed in a hazy way, saliva dripping bit by bit from the corners of the gag and his eyes appearing a bit fogged as Louis directs his index finger to his hole and thrusts it in.

Louis whines loudly as he pumps it in himself harshly from the start, not waiting much before adding in his middle finger and then the third one. Harry just wants to touch him, touch him so much, but he can’t and the cuffs are already much tighter than three minutes ago from all of the struggling and-oh, Louis is doing this on purpose. _Of course_. What better way to tease than to make him see but not let him touch?

Louis keeps fucking himself with his fingers and tries to reach his prostate but his fingers are too small and they can’t exactly curl and reach where he wants to. Not long after, he knows he needs more, much more, so he takes his fingers out of his hole, pulls the ball gag suddenly out of Harry's mouth and plunges his fingers in his mouth without giving him a chance to breathe properly as he ridiculously slicks Harry’s red-and-too-painful-to-even-look-at cock with his other hand.

When he’s done he wastes no time in taking his fingers out of his mouth and placing the ball gag again in Harry’s mouth, putting his hand over it to push it in and choke Harry even more as he sinks down quickly and hard on Harry’s cock.

Harry’s really hazed out but he feels the burn of no air constricting his throat and the precious, glorious heat of Louis’s tight hole enveloping him at once and it seems like too much, but he wants more, and everything hurts because he really, really needs to come but he can’t, and he can’t even feel the tears falling anymore.

Louis starts riding him then, not giving himself a chance to get used to Harry’s big cock inside of him before he’s already jumping up and down on it, his bum cheeks pressing on Harry’s hot skin every time.

"Fucking hell," he moans as he bounces repeatedly, whimpering at how good it feels.

He does stop for a moment, however, when he changes the angle a bit and Harry’s cock hits hard straight at his prostate.

Harry throws his head back in pleasure (and pain) there and breathes through his nose even sharper than before, and Louis just sits on it as he tries to regain his control.

When he’s comfortable, Louis places his hands on Harry’s chest and uses it as leverage as he forces himself to bounce faster- something that seemed impossible before but it isn’t, not really. Louis is letting little “uh, uh, uh”s every time he sinks down and makes Harry punch his prostate, and he really wants Harry to go down. So he moves his hands from Harry’s chest and puts them on his neck, pushing down and cutting off Harry’s air.

About ten seconds later Harry’s eyes are extremely wide and red, his whole face is changing shade so Louis takes them away, waits a few seconds before doing it again. And he keeps doing it over and over again, cutting Harry’s air supply enough to make him roll his eyes every single time until suddenly Harry’s body stops spasming uncontrollably. Now it only twitches a bit every time Louis drags his cock in and out of himself, but he’s otherwise still and completely quiet, no longer feeling pain but only immense, overwhelming pleasure.

"You’re down," Louis breathlessly murmurs when he sees Harry’s spaced-out countenance and he picks up the pace, coming hard and long over Harry’s chest. He sees white and hears Harry’s muffled groan as he slumps over him, Harry’s still hard cock inside of him.

He winces a bit as he gets off of Harry, the overstimulation a bit too much after that. Louis takes the cock ring off and envelops his mouth over his pulsing cock, making him come almost immediately. He swallows it all and stands on Harry’s side, running his hands softly over Harry’s sweaty, hot face.

"Darling, you here?" Louis asks and chuckles softly when Harry shakes his head a bit, his green eyes glazed and gleaming as he mumbles incoherent things. Louis unties the ball gag and takes it away from Harry’s face, picking the warm towel from the table and cleaning the saliva and sweat from his face gently.

When he finishes, he unties Harry’s wrists and ankles, rubbing his thumbs soothingly over the marks that’ll surely be there for a while. Then, he cleans Harry up carefully and gently, not wanting to disturb him. Harry’s body keeps twitching every now and then but it’s normal.

Louis peppers kisses on Harry’s face murmuring “you were so good, baby, so good,” every now and then. He kisses Harry’s lips sweetly then, making Harry smile softly, a dimple surfacing in his cheek and, god, he truly is beautiful.

"Eleanor!" He calls out loudly, knowing she’ll hear him. "Bring me chocolate and a Gatorade!"

He then takes Harry’s fishnets off and grabs some clothes he ordered Eleanor to drop off when she first came in. It’s comfortable, a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, so he hopes it makes it easier for Harry. He dresses him up, then himself with a similar attire, and after picks up a cold pad, putting it over Harry’s forehead and running his fingers in his hair soothingly, knowing from these last few days that Harry loves his hair to be played with- both soft and harshly.

Harry’s now officially and completely out of it, not aware of anything else but him and Louis, and he smiles widely at Louis’s gesture. Louis smiles down at him softly as well until Eleanor comes in with the tray.

He stands up (to which Harry whines at the loss) and takes the tray.

“Thank you, you may go.”

Eleanor bows and does so, leaving them. Louis puts the tray on the table next to him, sits down and places Harry’s head on his lap. He grabs the chocolate and pokes Harry’s lips.

"Open up, love," he says and Harry follows, opening his mouth ridiculously wide. Louis laughs breathlessly as he feeds him the chocolate, breaking it in pieces and waiting for Harry to finish munching and swallowing one before feeding him another. When he’s done, he gives Harry the Gatorade, making him drink at least half, knowing he needs the energy.

When he’s done, Harry nuzzles his face in Louis’s crotch, seeking comfort.

Louis smiles at the gesture. “Sleep, darling, I’ll be here when you wake up. I promise.”

Harry smiles dazedly and nods before slumping, sleep catching up to him quickly. Louis keeps running his fingers through his hair soothingly as until he, too, falls asleep, making sure to keep his promise.

And if he kisses Harry before doing so, Harry’s too out of it to notice.

++

The next morning, Harry finds himself alone. Well, not exactly alone, just in the bed. He looks around groggily and knows that this isn't his room, but it isn't the room Louis had "tortured" him in either (if that's torture, Harry's going to be a _really_ bad boy from now on).

It's bigger, much bigger, and it's all royal red and white. Harry knows there are more details, he does, but they're blurred out and practically not there. But they're there, he knows they are, and that's something that worries him a bit.

Harry sits up a bit in a relaxing manner, feeling his stomach twist in disagreement. When he looks down there are numerous angry lines covering his entire torso, and possibly his neck and face, a clear result of the whipping he received. A spark of arousal rushes through his system when he starts thinking about that, about how painful yet good it was, about how he would love to do it again. But if he could, it'd be him to Louis.

He knows the older lad wants to show dominance, but he just… doesn't. He knows that maybe in his personality he's a bit bossy and likes to be in charge, and maybe in bed he appears to like being in control, but Harry knows better. Harry knows just how much Louis craves to be taken care of, to have this burden of always being in control taken off of his shoulders. He may have been here for just a short time, but he feels as if it's been years since Louis bought him, and he knows much more than Eleanor or any of the other servants do.

Nobody knows how Louis always looks around before relaxing, as if precariously verifying if anybody's checking on him. No one knows how the smaller guy self-consciously tugs at the hem of every blouse he wears, or how he looks disappointedly at the mirror every time he passes by. Nobody notices how he's worriedly glancing at his phone every now and then, fearing a certain caller. But most of all, no one seems to notice how Louis bites his lip after he harshly orders a servant to do something, or how his eyes fill with noticeable regret when harsh words fall from his lips. Harry's also the only one who hears the muffled screams coming out of his bedroom of how horrible and disgusting Louis accuses himself to be each and every time he does something remotely bad to him.

Harry at first wasn't sure if he was just seeing what he wanted to see, what he craved Louis to be, but after last night and how genuinely sweet Louis was taking care of him and such, he knows it's not a façade. He knows that this, the whole I-order-you-follow-or-else ordeal, isn't really Louis. He just wishes he knew who Louis truly is.

As Harry's about to yell out and call for Louis, the phone rings. Louis comes out of the room's bathroom quicker than Harry's ever seen anyone move and immediately picks it up, saying a monotone and quite fearful "hello, Father" as soon as he answers.

Ah, so that's who he fears.

Harry can't get what Louis's father is saying, but from Louis's body language and replies he can make out what they're talking about.

Bites lip. "Yes, I know it's a lot of money but-".

Hand scratches back of the neck. "I didn't think it'd be that much of a deal."

Body stiffens. "Yes, he- it's worth it."

Voice cracks. "I'm trying, I really am, but they're people as well-".

Shoulders slumping in defeat. "Yes, you're right, they're not."

Blankness. "Of course, Father. Anything to please you."

With that he hangs up, throws the phone at the wall and slumps down, his hands going to cover his face, clearly in distress.

"Is everything alright?" Harry asks, a bit fearful because, after all, even though he knows Louis's not really mean he's still a slave and he can go to jail for crossing any established line.

Louis looks up at Harry and stands up, rushing over to him, placing the back of his hands over Harry's face, ignoring the question. "Harry, are you okay? Did you come down from your high completely?"

He nods. "Yes, I did, I think. Thank you for, um, taking care of me."

Louis looks at him expectantly, so he adds "master."

"Call me Louis," he softly corrects.

"But last night-"

"I'm sorry for last night. I wasn't thinking straight. I shouldn't have gone so far," Louis cuts him off. "At least not without your consent."

"I'm just a slave, you don't need my consent."

"You're a human being; therefore, your feelings must be taken in consideration as well," Louis corrects softly once more, adding "no matter what Father says" under his breath.

And, okay, Harry's surprised. Louis is so soft and caring and Harry just wants to hug him. That's it. But since he's not so sure he can, he sticks to comforting Louis.

"I didn't mind," Harry says. "Not at all. You _are_ undeniably attractive, and I love the pain."

Louis chuckles. "Yeah, I noticed."

Harry blushes at that and looks down, only to have his chin lifted upward (rather softly, might he add). "No, no, it's not a bad thing. I like pain as well. Besides, you're cute."

He blushes once more and decides to change the subject a bit. "Did I do anything strange while I dropped?"

"Nothing, besides crying for two hours over how you just want to cuddle with me."

"Seriously?" Harry asks incredulously, his cheeks flaming even more if possible.

Louis nods and shrugs. "It's okay. Like I said, you're cute." He stands up and heads over to the door. "Want me to bring you something, darling?"

He tries to make his delight at the pet name unnoticeable. "N-No, I'm fine. Maybe I should go and do stuff," Harry says yet makes no moves to stand up. He's not quite sure why.

"Nu-uh, you aren't fooling me. Your eyes are still fogged up. Just- stay here, okay? I'll let Eleanor in to keep you company. I have to go and make some arrangements."

With that, he's off. Eleanor walks in a bit later with wide-eyes and an enchanted smile, discussing immediately with Harry about how nice Louis is today and how lovely he is and Harry just wants to cry or punch her. Or both.

++

The thing about dropping is that it's more often than not longer than one expects it to be. When Harry drops, he's usually down for eight hours at most.

But he's never dropped this low before, so it's not surprising how three days later he's still dealing with the aftermath and everything is hazy and blurred. He stood up about two hours ago and tried to help Eleanor with cleaning but he couldn't, so he moved to the kitchen to help Niall cook something up. Niall trusted Harry with the pot of food, saying something about turning the heat off after two minutes have passed to let it cool off.

That was an hour ago.

People are currently banging on the kitchen door, screaming and screaming but Harry can't understand what they're saying- he can barely hear them. The smoke is coarse and harsh on his eyes and throat and in the air, and the pot is releasing it, along with fire. There's fire, so much fire, and Harry doesn't know what to do. He's on the floor immobile, counting stars while he waits, waits, waits for his prince charming to sweep him off his feet.

Lucky him, his prince charming comes in quickly enough.

"Darling," Louis says as he sets eyes on Harry, who's sitting in the floor watching the pot on fire distractedly. He crouches down next to him and pulls him to his feet with as much strength as he can muster.

He leads Harry out of the blazed room and directs him to his own, sitting down and dragging Harry with him, placing his head on his lap. And Harry starts to cry. He cries, and cries, and cries, and cries until he thinks he's run out of breath. Louis tries to soothe him as much as he can but there's not much he can do.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Louis asks after thirty-eight minutes of nonstop crying.

"I just- Louis, Louis. I can't, I don't." And he starts crying again. He buries his face in Louis's tummy and all Louis can do is try to calm him down.

About two minutes after he hears a meek voice ask. "Do you think I am, really?"

"Think you're what?"

"Pretty," Harry mutters, his voice off and his eyes glazed. He's off once more.

"What-"

"Yesterday. I was pretty. You said I was pretty."

Louis looks at him bewildered but remembers he's not himself at the moment and just nods, kissing his forehead repeatedly with murmurs of _yeah, you really are, my pretty boy_.

Harry nods after and thanks Louis before falling asleep- or at least Louis think he's asleep. He's still crying and murmuring questions like _was I good enough?_ and _do I make you happy?_ but Louis can't answer because if he does, he'll prove to his Father that everything he said is true.

Thankfully, Harry's already back to normal when he wakes up the next morning. Louis ordered Eleanor to stay with him at all times and tend to his every need until he's nursed completely back to health.

Meanwhile, Louis is making plans for the gala. Every three months the most prestigious of the country gather around in someone's home and show off their most prestigious slaves. Normally they're held in the house of the one who most slaves has at the moment, but apparently they tried to spice things up this year and after a high recommendation (which undoubtedly must have come from his father) it was decided it'd take place in Louis's house (he wouldn't have been chosen under normal circumstances, for he has but five slaves).

And Louis is a right mess.

He has exactly three weeks to get all of the preparations done; he has to order catering, set up party gifts and welcoming presents, buy a new suit (because everyone's already seen him in the ones he has), and buy his slaves clothes that perfectly exposes their best features. He's seriously contemplating whether or not to just kill himself and end it all now when he feels a warm hand on his shoulder.

"You're extremely stressed, is everything alright?" A rough voice asks him from behind. His shoulders instinctively slump as he shakes his head.

"No, not really. Everything is so hectic and I just-," he looks at Harry. "You're okay now, yeah?"

Harry nods. "Yeah, I am. Eleanor fixed me up-."

"Good," Louis cuts him off and drags him to a random room (it probably belongs to one of the slaves but he's never cared to even know where his laundry room is). He pushes Harry onto the bed and kisses him messy and hurriedly, his thin lips slotting onto Harry's plump ones with such familiarity he wonders where the sudden facility came from. This kiss, alike the ones before, wasn't passionate but extremely hot. Louis can feel Harry (as well as himself) start to get hard quickly; therefore, he works fast. He tugs Harry's shirt off and peppers kisses down his neck, chest and abs. Pulling Harry's pants down, he mouths over the bulge, licking over his underwear for a moment before tugging them down, watching with amazement as Harry's cock slaps his lower abdomen, flushed.

Louis grasps it and noses it a bit, nuzzling his head into his crotch. Harry's already whimpering a bit below him but it's clear he's trying to keep it all in, unsure whether or not Louis is okay with him moaning out loud. So when the smaller lad nods at him and takes him in he completely lets loose, groaning deep within his throat at the feeling of warm heat currently enveloping his throbbing cock.

Louis's head goes up and down, literally taking him like a popsicle- a long, large one at that. He hollows his cheeks and sucks him greedily, taking all of him in his mouth, not caring that he virtually can't and that he's gagging. Harry puts his hand in Louis's hair- and it's so soft Harry just wants to thread his fingers endlessly through them- and tries to pull him away slightly, not wanting him to literally choke (although he must admit, the thought of Louis choking on his cock makes him almost come) but that just gives Louis an idea.

He takes Harry's cock out and murmurs "fuck my mouth", and, after all, Harry is just a slave. Who's he to refute?

"Fuck," Harry mutters as he thrusts shortly into Louis's mouth, seeing the smaller lad gag and choke. There are tears in his eyes but he keeps going, sucking him earnestly like a champion and _fuck_ if that doesn't turn Harry on even more.

Not long after he comes to the sight of Louis's rosy cheeks glinting with tears that fell from his wide, red-rimmed blue eyes. Louis swallows it all with not even so much as a grimace at the taste, something that has Harry's cock twitching again.

Standing up, Louis murmurs "not enough" and hauls Harry with him and pushes him against the wall.

"Much easier this way," he says.

"What-" Harry's cut off by a slick, wet stripe pressed over his balls. His back arches unnaturally off the white wall and harsh inhalations and exhalations are already being drawn in and out of his nostrils.

Louis slides a hand and places it on his abs as he laps at his balls, licking them all around. His tongue is slick enough to leave the areas it glides over moist, and it has Harry shivering in delight every time the cool air rushes over there, the breeze doing wonders along with Louis's tongue. Harry's already hard again and, because it's too soon after his last orgasm, it hurts, and it's so good because of that. He feels himself get near and knows he's close, but Louis's tongue is relentless, licking them as if they're a delicious treat.

When Louis notices how harder and heavier they get, he knows Harry's close, so he sucks them both in his mouth. He hears Harry whimper a "holy fuck" from above him and he smirks as he suctions them harder, even bobbing his head upward and downward to drag them along. With the hand that’s not on Harry he runs his fingers on the upper part that he cannot seem to fit in his mouth, scratching the tight skin with blunt nails enough to give it a painful edge.

Harry gasps and puts both his hands in his hair, pulling on some strands because it's too overwhelming. Louis keeps going at it and decides to moan, and the vibrations are what do it for Harry and he's coming hard and painfully over his own body with a low groan, his whole body quaking and trembling with the orgasm.

He doubles over as he tries to catch his breath, his hands going to his knees as deep, long breaths enter his system.

Louis stands up and takes Harry's hands in his and guides him to the bed, where he drops them and lays down.

"Make me come on just your fingers," Louis says softly but there's no mistake that that's an order.

"But I'm so tired-" Harry's cut off by Louis yanking his hair harshly and he thinks Louis has a knack for that.

"I may be friendly now, but don't ever forget that you're a slave and I'm your master," Louis whispers threateningly, his voice rough (probably from when Harry fucked his mouth earlier but it did the desired effect). Harry sighed but nodded obediently. "Yes, master."

Louis hums softly in agreement and lies down completely once more, flipping over so he's no longer lying on his back but on his stomach, waiting for Harry to get on with it.

The taller lad is rummaging around noiselessly to find lube, but since he can't seem to encounter one he just sucks on the three fingers he intends to fuck Louis with. He slicks them up nicely with his own saliva before moving his hand to Louis's pretty pink hole.

Harry figures that, if given the time, he can write a haiku about Louis's hole. It's just so… pretty. And pink. And tight, and warm, and pretty- Harry figures he might be in love with it. So when he inserts his index finger he moans along with Louis at the feeling.

He doesn't waste much time before inserting the middle one along with it, pressing them in entirely before fucking Louis at a normal pace that has Louis let out low and guttural moans. He pushes them in, out, in, out, with a steady rhythm, only faltering when Louis moans out "more" to push in the third finger as well. That's when he decides to up the ante and picks up the pace, thrusting them in harder and faster than before.

"F-Fuck, harder, faster, just. _Fuck_ ," Louis screams at Harry when he crooks them, doing the motion repeatedly while relentlessly plunging them in the warm heat to find his master's prostate.

After about two minutes he finds it and Louis's screams loudly as his body lurches forward at the pleasure.

"There, right there! Keep- there!" Louis incoherently babbles on and ruts desperately on the bed as Harry keeps hammering there quick, never seeming to lose the pace but rather intensify it. When Louis murmurs "more, more" he knows that this won't be enough. And that's when he gets an idea.

He unexpectedly takes his three fingers out and drops to the floor, searching for lube because it's got to be here _somewhere_. He frantically looks under the bed and under the strewn clothes but it's not there.

"Why did you stop?!" Louis exclaims flabbergasted but not exactly mad, his head turned around and his body still rutting desperately on the sheets. Harry's looking in the nightstand's drawers when he answers, "just looking for- ah, found it!"

He stands up once more and stands in between Louis's open legs, this time with a bottle of lube in his hand. He uncaps it and squirts some all over his right hand, covering wholly and surely everything up to the wrist.

"If you don't put your fingers inside me once more I swear to god I will- ah!" Louis moans out when he feels the three fingers that were in him before wetly reenter. Harry thrusts them in him for a bit before adding his pinky finger along with them. Louis whimpers at the intrusion and grinds back onto Harry's fingers, whimpering "yeah, yeah!" as the four fingers make their way in and out of Louis. He stops every once in a while when those fingers are pressed inside as much as they can and curls them a bit to be able to caress Louis's perineum with his thumb, knowing that this will heighten the stimulation, and it certainly has Louis wailing profanities "fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck_ ".

When Louis seems to be used to the fourth, he adds his thumb in, not being able to thrust them in much but just the feeling of the five fingers has Louis moaning brokenly onto the sheets, gripping them tightly with his own hands. He tries to follow the inexistent rhythm of Harry's short thrusts but can't, and that's _still_ not enough.

"I need- I need more, more!" He greedily states, so Harry does what's left: he takes his hand out, curls his fingers into the palm of his hand to make a fist and inserts it in, the wider albeit shorter unaccustomed entry being roughly surrounded by a warm, welcoming heat, and his wrist currently being wrapped around by the gloriously stretched and extremely red rim.

He inserts it quickly, not giving Louis time to adjust, and the smaller lad lets out high-pitched shrieks at the huge intrusion.

"Fuck, what the Hell!" He squeaks out in a voice much higher than his normal once, voice cracking a bit from the soreness of his throat.

Harry pays no mind to it though and fucks Louis with his entire fist, thrusting it in and out harshly, groaning at the sight of Louis's hole being ridiculously stretched by his whole fist. It's like it was made _just_ for it, sucking them in perfectly. Louis's body is moving along with the thrusts, moaning and groaning and screaming at the feeling. Harry fucks him hard, plunging his hand in then dragging it completely out until his knuckles are pressing onto the perineum and only his thumb remains inside of Louis, then plunging it right back in. When Harry presses his fist inside enough for him to feel the bundle of nerves over his knuckles, he crooks his fingers slightly more, the pressure of his knuckles on Louis's prostate so freaking hard and painfully heavenly that Louis lets out a wail so loud he's sure even the neighbors could hear him- that is, if he had any.

The slave continues crooking his fingers in Louis's hole, making the prostate be endlessly stimulated over and over and over and over again, and Louis comes so hard with a noiseless, broken sob that he literally sees stars.

His whole body is quaking, spasming- alike Harry's when he was tied up days ago- and his eyes are a bit hazed up. Harry slips his fist out (which makes Louis twitch in painful yet pleasurable overstimulation) and turns Louis around, feeling proud when he sees him cross-eyed and shuddering.

"I," Louis starts out but gulps to take deep breath, not wanting to sound choked. "I said with your fingers, not your whole fist you prick."

And Harry breathlessly laughs because with that last comment he knows that Louis is joking, loving the friendly side that seemed to have disappeared a while ago. When Louis comes back to normalcy a few minutes later he notices Harry's exhausted complexion and takes pity.

"Sleep," he murmurs and stands up slowly, his backside feeling on fire. "I have nothing more for you to do today."

Harry smiles and nods obediently, lying down on the bed next to the one Louis was in. "Thank you, Lo- master."

Louis smiles back for a moment and picks up his clothes, putting them on before walking over to Harry (with a very noticeable limp). He leans down a bit and pecks Harry's lips softly. 

"Louis. Call me Louis."

++ 

Throughout the next three weeks it goes like that; Louis getting too stressed out and dragging Harry to somewhere and sucking him off, or giving him a hand job, or making Harry finger him or fuck his mouth. And Harry doesn't mind, not at all; although, he must admit that he's tired from all of the constant and relentless sexual encounters (wow, he'd never thought it'd come that that). Nevertheless, he's still delighted to do it because, apart from the fact that he doesn't have much of a choice, he actually enjoys it. And Louis gets all sweet and soft post-coitus, something that has Harry unknowingly falling for his master because it's further proof that this isn't Louis's true nature, not at all. The only possible reason for Louis to be this way is that he's being coerced to- which doesn't surprise Harry, much less after accidentally hearing (eavesdropping into) Louis's phone conversation with his father.

However, Louis seems much more stressed out than days before, and he wonders why but nobody else questions it because they know. They've been through the desperation too many times before: the gala. 

The gala is today, and Louis is losing his hair. Literally, this morning when he took a shower and washed his hair there were multiple strands remaining in his hand. He's anxious, and worried, and anxious, and stressed, and anxious. He tries multiple times to calm down but he can't. His father will be here, assessing his new slave, and he knows that he won't deem it worthy of the money spent- which is a total and complete lie. Although socially superior, he's more than sure that Harry's worth much more than what he paid for.

He sighs at the thought of him engaging in yet another fight with his father but straightens up, knowing that now's not the time to be thinking about that, but to be preparing for the festivity that's taking place in his _château_. Louis looks at the clock, two in the afternoon, and gets the last things ready. 

Louis waltzes into the central ball room (where the gala will be held) and looks around, verifying and checking off what's been arranged.

"Flowers, check. Party favors, check. Expensive food and snacks, check. My three most prestigious slaves, che- damn it!" Louis mutters to himself and dashes away, picking an item from one of the chambers before searching for them. He sees Niall in the kitchen preparing food (which is what he'll be shown off as; the head chef) and Eleanor dutifully cleaning the imperceptible messes wearing a beautiful and tight maid's outfit (which is what she'll be shown off as; the maid), but doesn't locate Harry anywhere. 

"Does anyone know where he is?" He asks them, knowing they know who he means, but they both shake their heads.

"Last I knew of him, he was in the garden." Eleanor informs him.

"Thank you," he says and goes straight to the garden, hoping he's there.

And, thankfully, he is. He's currently sitting with his legs crossed on the center of the rose section, facing forward with a daisy in his hair and a dandelion in his hand. He doesn't seem to notice Louis yet because he has his eyes closed, and he's muttering some things under his breath. Louis grows curious and starts walking towards him silently, watching with amazement when Harry opens his eyes and sets his gaze on the dandelion before blowing it, making the threads almost magically disappear into the air. Louis really has strong urges to just off himself right there and then because no person as sexually deviant as Harry should be this adorable.

"Hey," he softly calls for his attention, bringing Harry out of his repertoire. "I need you to get ready."

Harry quickly stands up and gives a little bow, his head hung a bit in submission. "Yes, of course. Is there anything besides the clothing you've set up for me?"

"Yes," Louis says and gets closer to him, running his hands over his arms and chest as soon as he reaches him. Harry shivers under his touch and he smirks. Getting on his tippy toes, he places his hands on his shoulders and starts kissing his neck, biting and sucking harshly on what he knows from experience are Harry's sweet spots.

Harry groans and makes a move to put his hands on Louis's hips but the smaller of the two moves his body out of the way, glaring at him in reprimand. He moves his hand to Harry's crotch and feels his cock twitch under his hand, loving the attention. Louis smirks once more and slips his hand under the modest pants and underwear he makes Harry wear while outside, grasping the already semi-hard member in his tiny hands.

"There's one more thing I need from you," Louis murmurs into his neck, ghosting his lips over the constantly moving Adam's apple. "I need you to get hard for me."

Harry's cock twitches once more at those words and Harry lets out a breathy moan, nodding his head at that because, yeah, he can certainly get off right now. Louis at first only palms him, teasingly working him up, but when he remembers the time he starts properly jerking him off, starting with slow strokes and escalating progressively. Harry's panting above him, his head currently hiding in the crook of Louis's neck as he involuntarily bucks his hips forward to meet Louis's strokes, his cock pretty hard now.

Louis keeps the pace, now rubbing the head with his thumb to smear the precum all around. He knows that Harry won't get painfully hard unless he feels a tinge of pain, so he starts stroking him with his nails as hard as before. Harry's knees buckle and he lurches forward instinctively, whimpering and sweating into Louis's neck. He mouths over the juncture while Louis stops at the base to thumb at the balls for a moment before continuing, and that does it for Harry.

"M-master, I'm g-going to-" before Harry can finish that sentence Louis drops on his knees and takes Harry's pants with him, taking out the cock ring he had picked up before and placing it on Harry. Harry's knees definitely buckle at the pressure and he goes down, his face now in front of Louis, and he's now crying a little because _fuck, not this again_.

"I need your best asset to be noticeable when you're being shown off as my sex slave," Louis informs him and stands up, leaving Harry there to get a grip, and gets himself ready, already dreading what's about to come.

++

The gala, so far, is a success. The ballroom is packed; the crystal chandeliers are dangling beautifully from the ceiling, casting the perfect spotlight to the center of the room, where the dances to the slow music take place in. All of the tables filled with food and drinks are pressed against the walls except for the bar, which is in a footstep higher elevation. The round, Parisian-themed three-legged and crystal tables where all of the visitors seat themselves are located on the balcony- something he specifically requested for, since the view from his elongated front has too beautiful a scenery to not be appreciated. Everyone seems to be having a swell time, which fills him up with pride and relief. Also, he's accomplished to leave quite an impression with his slaves (known today as one, two, and three) to the wealthy suitors that have come to rub their slaves in everybody's faces.

So far he's only seen two friendly face's, Liam's and Zayn's (who's also known as a number; seven), but he's yet to see his father- something that he's not quite sure whether to be happy or worried about.

As he looks around, he feels a tinge of pride when he sees his three slaves making themselves noticeable and following their own, personal rules.

" _One, you'll be known for your culinary skills; therefore, cook á la carte and make them drool over your exquisite plates_." Niall's serving pâté á l'orange to Simon Cowell, the big shot kitchen expert who only buys cooking slaves to humiliate them, and the older man is praising his dish and delicate spicing.

" _Two, just by your attire they'll know you're going to be shown off for your maid skills. I want you to be serving the guests, giving them treats, cleaning up messes- but all of this immediately, make them remember your cleanliness and speed_." Eleanor is quick and meticulous in her work, always. So it's not much of a surprise when she does a stellar job, busing the tables with the expertise of a waitress and cleaning up after the patrons as if she were a human vacuum.

" _Three, you're a sex slave, there's definitely no way to hide it; therefore, I need you to express your sexual prowess in all of its might. Charm the pants off of the suitors- not literally, though, because you're still mine, I don't need people commenting I have a slut for a personal sex slave; however, a feel or two isn't bad- and flirt ostentatiously with them. Make everyone around you fall in love with your sexiness and roughness. Oh! And look out for a man in a red jacket. I wasn't told who he is but I've been informed he's an expert in sex slaves, so if you make him take an interest in you, you'll definitely put me on the map_." Harry is currently making conversation to the man with the red jacket, who seems to give Louis his back. Harry's clearly on full charming mode, his lips forming a sly grin that exposes his dimples yet gives his eyes the edge to make him look tempting. The man grabs Harry's cock through the slick, suede pants for a moment before nodding in what must be praise, something that has him smirking in delight (and biting his lip when he sees Harry wince; he has a cock ring, after all). When the man turned sideways to expose his neck for Harry to mark love bites in Louis notices who the man is and he has the urge to either commit suicide or murder.

_Nick Grimshaw._

Of course it had to be Grimshaw! The fucking idiot that's tried (and honestly, succeeded) in making Louis seem like a worthless little shit for years, the jerk who's constantly letting out horrible remarks about his persona on his monthly speeches and conferences, the insufferable prick who bought off his first slave ever and has won Louis's father (and his stepfather's) approval. His enemy.

Louis just wants to go over there and stab him in the face and then caveman-claim Harry as his because he takes a careful look at Harry's face and this is supposed to be an act but there's actual, truthful delight on his countenance (something that he didn't think is even possible with having an insatiable hard on) and oh, Louis has got to go over there- and fast.

"I see you've met my sex slave," Louis states presumptively when he reaches them, standing alongside Harry- who has his head hung in submission at the presence of his master.

"Ah, so this is your pet?" Nick asks a bit condescendingly yet with a tinge of impression (or amuse, but Louis will go for the former for his own benefit). "Such a pretty pet-."

"Grimshaw, don't."

Nick's eyebrows quirk in surprise. "Don't what, Tomlinson? Compliment your slave? Sorry for doing something completely in the rules," he states sarcastically.

"You know quite well what you're doing, Nicholas. Don't pretend I don't know what you're playing at," Louis sneers. "You're buttering him up in compliments so that he picks you in the exchange."

At the accusation, Nick places a hand dramatically over his heart, a scandalized expression on his face. "Why, I would never do such a thing, Lewis!" He then starts running his hand over Harry's curls and Louis wants to disappear when he hears Harry actually _purring_. "I'm just treating him nice, 'tis all."

Louis growls and put an arm in front of Harry, as if to shield him (which he really does need to, or else he's afraid he'll be sucked into the black hole that is Nick Grimshaw). "Yeah, well, fucking stop it. You know the two minute rule, and you've certainly stuck around for more than five. Don't make me report you, _Nicky_."

"Wouldn't want that, now, would I?" Nick murmurs with a glare at the nickname. He then leans down noticeably until his mouth is upon Louis's ear and whispers, "wouldn't want daddy to find out you've grown quite fond of your sex slave, either, right, Boo Bear?"

Louis freezes at that and whispers a breathless "fuck you".

"I'd gladly fuck you, if you're up for it," Nick just laughs tantalizingly at Louis's look of horror and flips his hand.

"Well, I'd love to stay and chat but I don't want to, really. So best of luck in the exchange, Three." He winks at Harry before kissing Louis on the lips and muttering on them, "best of luck to you as well, step-brother."

Louis glares at him throughout the entire walk from where they are to the bar at the other end before turning around towards Harry. He feels his hands twitching in rage, and his lips pulled into a scowl. God, he hates him.

"I don't want to see you around Grimshaw, Three, or so help me god." He orders, to which Harry nods and walks away, knowing better than to mess with an angry Louis.

That's when Simon Cowell, the "richest of them all" clears his throat twice to gather everybody's attention.

"Gentlemen," he says, posture rigid and eyes scanning the room in obvious judgment as soon as everyone's moved from the balcony towards the ballroom. "We're gathered here today to, as always, show our newest possessions."

Louis pretends not to wince at the phrase and Cowell pretends not to see Louis's wince. "Now, normally, the galas are held in the house of the one who most slaves has at the moment but this year, after some high recommendation from various persons, we've decided that it should take place in Louis Tomlinson's manner."

All of the patrons raised their glasses of wine and silently cheered on as Cowell continued. "Any words from the man of the hour?"

Suddenly all of the attention is on Louis and he blushes, making his way towards where Cowell is. As soon as he arrives, he starts reciting a practiced speech, his eyes moving frantically around the room.

"Thank you all for coming. This is obviously unexpected and uncustomary, and plain unorthodox to how these things usually go, but it's alright. I'm thankful for the great honor that's been bestowed upon me…"

And he rambles on and on, only faltering a bit when his eyes fall upon Grimshaw, who's right behind Harry, murmuring things in his ear that make Harry visibly blush and squirm. Louis's grip on the microphone tightens yet he manages to keep a blank face to prevent from showing his fury at the moment.

However, he's had enough when he sees Nick give Harry's cock a squeeze and Harry pushes him off gently, clearly not really trying to get away, and Nick does so once more and this time Harry's head falls back onto Nick's shoulder as he moans.

He growls "let's move onto the exchange" right in the middle of the speech and throws the microphone at Cowell. The older man establishes the rules and such while Louis darts towards Harry, literally dragging the slave away from Nick hard enough to make him fall onto the ground.

"I fucking told you to back off, Nick!" Louis exclaims furiously, pushing on Nick's chest to physically make him back off. He then turns around to meet Harry's drawn off gaze.

" _You_ ," he growls. "I'm going to deal with you later." Some people are staring at them, curiously eavesdropping on what's going on.

"I'm leaving now, don't get your pretty, lace knickers in a twist," Nick states as he brushes off invisible dust from his suit. "I won't let you denounce me."

"Who says I haven't?"

Nick casts him a knowing look and with that, he says it all. He whistles and his two slaves round up, standing beside him obediently. Before he leaves, Nick leans in closely to be able to whisper in his ear.

"Father's watching."

Those words make Louis freeze and look around frightened. Nick laughs at his terror and plants a wet kiss on his lips before leaving.

Louis takes in deep breaths to regain posture, not wanting to lose control. He feels a hand on his arm before a low voice breaks his concentration.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-."

A deafening slap echoes throughout the room yet people don't stop their ministrations. This isn't something exactly uncommon, after all.

"Shut up, don't fucking speak, don't touch me." Louis says threateningly and calls Eleanor over. She bows in his presence before waiting patiently and dutifully for her command.

"Take it to the dungeon, lock it up." He orders and walks away, leaving a furious Harry behind.

Louis has to stay in the reunion until the exchange ended to farewell the visitors. During it, one of the DiVirtubi's slaves chooses him, as well as two of the Balserioin's and one of the Fortessa's, while Niall chooses Cowell and Eleanor chooses Casanova. He stays after a bit as well with his hands and right eye twitching and his lips murmuring incoherent things under his breath because most of this might be a façade, but there's one thing that surely isn't.

He's a man of anticipation.

++

Harry expected to be thrown in a prison, or a cell or something like that. He never, however, imagined he'd be locked up in a _cage_.

This isn't exactly customary, he thinks while he looks around the cold, steel and big cage- tall and long yet not exactly wide. He's done his fair share of misdemeanors with his previous masters, but never had he ever been in a cage. He just hopes that he won't have to suffer through inhumane conditions.

The door to the dungeon is opened then, the creaking sound of it disturbing the serene albeit tense atmosphere. Standing up, Harry walks over the cage's opening as much as he can to try and get a glimpse of the person who entered, who most likely is Louis, but is disappointed thoroughly when he remembers that _he can't see_. The last thing Eleanor did before leaving him, besides take off his cock ring and tie a ball gag over his mouth, was tie a blindfold over his eyes while whispering "sorry".

He sits on the floor once more and winces when he feels the harsh pull on his neck. That's another thing. He's had various masters, as he earlier recalled, but this is the first time he's been forced to wear a _collar_. At the thought his hands instinctively go to his neck, feeling the coarse leather that's both tender and harsh on his skin.

Harry wonders what could possibly be next when the cage's door is opened, and he can hear the sound of what must be heels clacking on the floor start getting closer and closer. His blindfold is dragged down a bit then, and in front of him is a beautiful brunette with short hair and sharp cheekbones, her sinfully curvaceous body clothed in a black corset top strapped with gold suspenders to matching fishnet tights. Over them, beautiful golden knickers cover her delicious bum both delicate and perfectly with a bow sitting on top of the curve- something he's able to admire when she turns around to lock the door once more. At first, he's awestruck, but then his mind starts reeling and this looks _so much_ like Eleanor and he really doesn't want to do anything with her.

When she turns around and places her hands behind her back his eyes roam her pristinely painted face and _fuck, no, this is Eleanor_. His eyes seem to have a mind of their own and they shift downward, admiring her slight, soft belly under her top and- wait, that's a bulge.

Harry's eyes widen and he looks up once again, and his green eyes meet glinting eyeliner-rimmed blue ones and _holy shit, this is his master_.

Seeming to have realized Harry caught on, Louis takes his left hand from behind his back and tugs on the leash of the collar- which is tied up in one of the cage's metallic squares-, making him lunge forward unexpectedly and fall to the floor. Louis pulls it once more, but this time with a lot more strength and it has Harry's head being involuntarily lifted up.

Louis then crouches down so that he's at eye level with Harry. Harry's eyes are still wide and shocked as he tries to process everything.

"I told you, I told you, I told you," Louis repeats softly, his voice soft yet harsh with the slight undertone of bitterness and something else. His eyes are still glinting, Harry notices, but it's not the mischievous glint they normally have. When Louis drags out his right hand from behind his back now and Harry catches a glimpse of what's in his hand, he understands what that glint is about.

Hysteria.

Louis lifts the knife in his hand to Harry's face, running the tip tauntingly over his cheeks, nose, lips. Harry's eyes are closed through it all, his body trembling in fear, not wanting to face what's going on.

"Should have listened," is what Louis says before placing the blindfold over his eyes once more and lashing the knife quick and precise over his cheek.

Harry lets out a strangled cry when he feels the cool tip of the blade scratch his skin, wincing once he feels that which is surely blood drip below.

"Should have listened," another scratch on his neck. "Should have listened," another cut just below his collarbone.

"Should have listened!" A slow, painful drag over his lower abdomen. Harry's screaming as he feels the knife slicing his skin a little too deeply, but not enough to cause any permanent or serious damage. He can't see, only feel, and it's as if everything is on overdrive, and he feels it all tenfold. He knows that the wetness all over his torso now isn't sweat, but blood, and he's panicking.

The knife is off of him for a moment, and he sighs in relief. But then he feels it somewhere else, somewhere completely unexpected and where he can _definitely_ do some serious damage.

Then, Louis just laughs. He laughs and laughs and laughs, and he truly does sound psychotic. As Harry feels the aftermath of being restrained and the possible outcomes from this position, he finally realizes the true degradation of being a slave.

He's always known slavery is something degrading, derogatory, degenerative, yet he never quite personally grasped why. Sure, he's been "forced" to have sex, but it wasn't ever exactly not consensual- at least not with him. And that must be the sickest thing of all this, really; Harry actually _liked_ it. He loved being told what to do, do things he normally wouldn't agree to, being physically tortured- he loves all that, he relishes it, he thinks, as he feels his extremely hard member press against his lower stomach as Louis kept viciously yet not deeply slashing his skin.

"You should see yourself right now!" Louis breaks Harry out of his retrospection and remarks in between giggles. He then lightly places the tip of the knife over Harry's cock, the cold metal causing both fear and pleasure course through Harry's system. He's whimpering, muttering "no, no, no" repeatedly under his breath yet they're muffled by the ball gag. Louis's giggling while he grazes it over his entire length, laughing particularly loudly when he sees Harry harden right before his eyes at the stimulation.

"You've got to be kidding me," Louis murmurs to himself yet doesn't falter, running the blade up and down seamlessly quick and precise while careful not to cut anything _there_ before gliding over his balls as well, establishing a sort of indecipherable pattern that drives Harry crazy as he controls himself to prevent bucking forward since he knows the dangers that can result from that.

However, he's extremely turned on and this is sickeningly heavenly, so it's no surprise, really, when he comes from the unique physical stimulation. He moans brokenly through the process and feels the liquid land on his chest and abs, probably mixing with the blood Louis drew earlier.

"This is gold!" Louis exclaims, his voice an octave higher and he laughs and giggles. He tugs the blindfold off of Harry's eyes once more and looks deeply into the deep green eyes, a wicked glint in his own as he assesses them.

"Think of me what you want," Louis whispers extremely close to him, a smirk on his face. "But you're as sick as I am."

Louis then throws the knife away and bites his lip as he examines his work. Harry looks down and his throat closes up and he just wants to cry. His torso looks downright mutilated- even if the slashes weren't deep, they were something. His eyes close and tears are streaming down his cheeks as a spark of arousal courses through him, and he agrees; he's as sick as Louis is.

"Aw, what a mess you've made," Louis murmurs, not in the very least sorry. "Let me clean you up."

With that being said Harry feels a soft, slick, wet feeling on his chest. He opens his eyes and moans loudly at the sight of Louis lapping at the blood all over his torso. This was sick, so _so_ sick, yet too hot and _such_ a turn on.

Louis sucks at the lashes to get more of Harry's sweet blood in his mouth, feeling vampiric for acting like such a sanguivorous creature. Harry groans a bit in pain and shifts slightly, his neck straining at the harsh tug from his collar yet he endures it. By when Louis's done licking up the come and blood on his torso, neck and cheek (which he saved for last just to be able to murmur truly degrading things in his ear), Harry's already hard again.

Louis stands up and admires the sight, flushed all over and looking powerful in stiletto heels and pretty lace knickers.

"Enough about you, bitch," Louis decides. "Now's my turn."

Kicking on Harry's chest with the heel of his right shoe Louis sends him to the floor, Harry's head colliding harshly on the floor and his body being yanked slightly to the side by the collar- which also leaves him without breath.

Harry groans in obvious pain since his chest hasn't exactly recovered- hell, ten minutes haven't even passed since he was harmed- yet this seems to stir Louis more. The smaller lad hums as he walks over to Harry's side so his feet are on either side of Harry's head and he leans forward to take the ball gag out and press on Harry's collar, effectively choking him while he meticulously places himself until he's literally sitting on Harry's face, his openly out hole (he had made sure the set he was wearing today had the opening there below the bow) just above his previously restrained mouth.

Harry seems to get the message because soon enough he's licking Louis's entrance shyly, his tongue gliding over it tentative and timidly. Louis moans loudly and leans forward, draping himself over Harry's torso and placing his arms on either side, knowing that if he leans just a bit further he could take Harry in his mouth as well but tonight he's too pissed off for that.

As Harry's licking now more openly, tongue running more confidently and repeatedly over his hole, Louis lets out a "bloody hell" as he scratches at Harry's side, loving the feeling of Harry's tongue on him like this. When Harry knows Louis will want more, he changes his angle a bit and slowly slips his tongue inside his warm, wet hole.

"A-ah, fuck, yeah," he whines and sits up, pressing against Harry's mouth even more, whining once more at the feeling of those cold, surely bruised lips against him. He sits up a bit and turns himself around, this time he's facing one of the cage's walls instead of Harry's body. Soon enough the slave starts thrusting his slick, long tongue inside of Louis, delving it deep and hotly. Louis bounces on his face to meet the thrusts, gripping onto the steel cage's metal bars to support himself as he goes up and down, shouting "yeah, yeah, fuck, yeah, there!".

Going as fast as he can, Harry's relentless. He occasionally slips his tongue out and licks around the rim again, shaking his head fiercely so that his tongue licks the entire area sloppily and hotly, and then he plunges it in again. All the while, Louis's screaming, lifting himself with the bars as much as he can with straining knees and quivering thighs.

When Harry starts nipping and licking around the rim once more, shaking his head in a way that's sure to drive Louis insane, the master feels close to his peak; therefore he lifts himself off of Harry's amazing mouth and tongue and sits on his lower abdomen, his cock hard and flushed as he kisses Harry hotly, wanting to taste himself. He licks his mouth wholly, exploring every crevice and sucking on Harry's tongue while scratching his neck painfully, making the slave unexpectedly come with a low groan below him for the second time.

Louis sits back and watches Harry amusedly. "You're such a little whore, aren't you? Coming without even being touched," he murmurs as he takes Harry's lips once more, dragging the lower one in between his teeth while whispering "such a beautiful slut".

Harry moans brokenly into Louis's mouth. "Y-your slut."

The master slaps the slave harshly and pulls at the collar, bringing his face up so that their eyes meet. "Damn right you are, you fucking bitch! I fucking told you to stay away from Grimshaw, but you didn't listen!" Ending his brief rant, he stands up and orders Harry to do so as well. While the taller man does so, Louis goes to the cage's corner and picks up five strands of rope Harry couldn't have seen before with the blindfold over his eyes.

Louis laughs at the slave's widened eyes and pushes him against one of the silver, cold walls, grabbing a strand in each hand. He puts one in his mouth as he uses the other to tie Harry's left wrist to one of the cage's square bars. Harry's limply resting against it, whimpering in pain and pleasure yet not even struggling against the harsh material keeping him in place. Louis smiles at his submissiveness and with the strand that was in his mouth ties up the other. With two of the three that are remaining he ties up Harry's ankles, and with the last one his torso " _just for fun_ ".

When he's done, he sees that Harry's hard again and smiles wickedly before standing up and putting the blindfold over Harry's eyes and tying the ball gag around his mouth once more. "You don't get to see," Louis murmurs lowly. "You don't get to control, just feel and hope that you get off."

Now Harry's blind again, and he doesn't think there's a state he hates more than this one. And he's restrained once again, and he can literally do nothing but take what's being given to him. The worse thing is that he doesn't know what's going to be given to him and that slightly (really) worries him.

But Louis has everything planned out, apparently. As soon as he makes sure that Harry can't see and can't get out of the restraints, he gets on his hands and knees as comfortably as he can with the little space he has (his face is literally mere inches from the other steel wall). From this awkward position he turns his head around and grasps Harry's cock in his hand, moving it until its head is in his hole. Harry's breath hitches as well as Louis's and the master slowly crawls backwards into it. He isn't prepped at all besides when Harry rimmed him earlier, so the intrusion is rough and painful- just how he likes it. Both men are groaning and moaning all the way until Louis's bum cheeks are pressed against Harry's hips and Harry's cock is completely inside of Louis. There's a sound of something hitting the cage's wall so he assumes Harry threw his head back in pleasure while Louis casts his down to regain his breathing.

When he figures he's used to the stretch Louis then starts to drag himself forward and backward, starting slowly for the first two or three drags but then quickly speeding up, wanting to feel pain, wanting to hurt. Harry's breathing heavily above him when he shouts a loud "Jesus Christ!" when he works himself on Harry's big cock, the thrusts completely controlled by him.

Soon enough it's not enough, nothing's ever enough, and he feels it's close to his prostate but he can't quite find it. Therefore, he grips the metal bars and pushes and pulls himself with them, this time being able to go deeper and quicker.

He can't hear much from Harry except from garbled sounds that are muffled by the ball gag, but he's shrieking and moaning like there's no tomorrow.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Louis whines loudly in a high-pitched voice, that resembling of a girl's more than his own- which makes Harry's knee literally buckled at the sound, too much to bear.

When he changes the angle a bit and Harry's cock hammers directly into his prostate, and Louis actually cries and squeals. His voice is completely wrecked and extremely high and he no longer sounds like himself, his voice matching his clothing.

Louis keeps relentlessly forcing himself onto Harry, pushing and pulling himself off of the bars until and from when he's flushed against his hips. He keeps the pace, sweaty with mascara surely running down his cheeks as he hits dead on his sweet spot.

Not able to keep it in any longer Harry painfully releases once more inside of Louis's tight wet hole, and with the feeling of Harry's warm come inside Louis comes as well, his entire body shaking with the orgasm while Harry's completely crumbles and weakens since it's the third time he's come.

Louis carefully takes Harry's cock out of him and stands up, feeling some of the come dripping down his thighs. Harry's slumped down, his eyes shutting unconsciously from extreme fatigue. He fees faint coming to him but he struggles to battle it, not wanting to upset him even more.

What he doesn't know is that that's what Louis plans on doing.

While Harry's not exactly aware of his surroundings Louis leaves the cage for a moment to go to the end of the vast dungeon where the pit of fire is. He takes the stick he left burning and walks towards Harry once more. The slave opens his eyes weakly when he feels Louis's presence in the small cage as well.

Louis smirks and walks forward to the apparently confused slave.

"What-."

Harry's question is interrupted by his blood curdling scream as Louis presses the tip of the stick on his thigh. The pain is too much, blindingly so, and he feels the name "Louis" fall from his lips before blackness becomes his surroundings.

At the murmur of his name Louis drops the stick and starts walking back, his hands shaking and going to cover his mouth. When he turns around to leave his eyes meet black ones filled with pride and joy with his hatred, deprecate, horrified in his own.

++

Time progresses and minutes turn into hours, hours into days, days into weeks, and weeks into months. It's not going as quickly as it used to anymore, Harry realizes on the day exactly four months and three days have passed since he last saw his master.

After fainting from such an intense burning (which he later realized was an ownership mark) he expected to wake up miserably alone in the cage, yet the surrounding that greeted him is one unfamiliar to him. He woke up in the infirmary of the house under the care of Paul, one of Louis's new slaves whose ability truly lied in protecting but caring wasn't exactly a weakness. Harry was confused at the moment until the sight of his bandaged torso made him replay the events of the day (night?) before. He expected to see Louis that day, for the master to take care of him and apologize like he did last time he went too rough on him but was disappointed when he didn't see him that day. Or the day after. Or the one after that.

Suddenly, that's what his life consists of; waiting desperately for at least a glimpse, even a soft murmur of his voice, _something_ of Louis. He often worries that the master's no more, but he daily receives a list of (insignificant) chores to do around the house; therefore, Louis is still here. He just needs to find a way to talk to him.

Today he decides to do something completely crazy that'll surely get him a jail sentence but _he doesn't care_. He sits down right next to Louis's door and waits for his master to open the door; as soon as he does so, he'll coerce him into conversing with him for at least one minute.

He's extremely confident this'll work- until Paul appears walking down the hall towards Louis's room. Harry panics and runs to hide by pressing himself up against the wall that intersects that hall. He peeks his head out and sees Paul knock on Louis's bedroom door softly and not thirty seconds later a head full of chestnut-colored feathery hair peeks out similar to how Harry's is.

"D-Did you talk to him?" Louis asks Paul nervously, stuttering a bit and Harry's jaw almost hits the floor. This has got to be the first time he's ever even seen Louis nervous, much less stuttering.

Paul smiles warmly at him and places a hand on his shoulder fatherly, "yeah, and he's willing to take Harry for almost the same amount you paid for him in the first place."

 _Take me?_ Harry thinks while Louis lets out a relieved sigh.

"Oh, good. I wasn't sure about selling Harry at first-."

"You're selling me off?" Harry asks gruffly with a tinge of hurt, betrayal clear in his eyes. Louis freezes at the sound of his voice and Paul looks at them both before bowing and walking away, knowing he isn't needed in personal affairs.

Louis clears his throat and rigidly straightens his back. "Yes, I am."

"What, why, what?" Harry asks while getting nearer to Louis, the hurt now painfully clear in his voice. It makes Louis shrink in on himself.

"You heard me. Must I repeat myself again?" Louis walks into his room once more and tries to close it but Harry stops him and walks in as well. Louis's eyes widen while watching Harry lock the door and almost corner him in the spacious room.

"Talk to me, let me talk you out of this" Harry pleads softly and Louis shakes his head.

"No, Harry. It's done. J-just get out." Louis orders but his voice breaks a little when his throat closes up. He's going to cry, he knows it, and maybe he's broken various rules before, but to cry in front of him? That's the worst thing he could do.

Harry accepts none of that and takes Louis's hands in his, offering some reassurance yet gaining confidence from this as well. "No. You're not selling me, and I'm not leaving until you talk to me."

Louis knows what's expected of him at such a defiant answer from a slave, so he quickly snaps his hand back and raises it to slap Harry but the taller one's large hands stops his own. "I would let you do it, it's your duty, but I don’t want to see your eyes fill with guilt and remorse".

Louis's eyes widen and he drops his hand softly, looking between it and Harry's eyes as he feels some of the tears fall on his cheeks. "I-I-" he starts but Harry shushes him, trying to calm him down with soothing words like "don't worry" and "it's okay", and Louis has had enough.

"No!" He shouts and pushes Harry back. "It's not okay!"

Voice wavering and tears spilling endlessly he reiterates, not looking at Harry. "It's not okay. You have no idea how hard it is for me to all I do, how hard it is for me to _be me_." He chokes up for a moment as the thought of his Father flood his mind. "What it's like to be scared, frightened- not the way I am. H-Hurting everyone, hurting _you_ , you're _so_ precious to me. A-and to have so much control- god, I _hate_ having to have control! It's such a heavy burden and I can't, I can't."

Louis crumbles to the floor in a fetus position, his hand going immediately in between his knees as he rocks himself to try and calm down. Harry's broken heartedly watching the scene, completely crumbled at the sight of the beautiful man breaking down before him. He slowly walks towards him and sits beside him, immediately picking him up and placing him on his lap. Louis keeps on crying but this time more openly, wrapping his arms around Harry's neck and burrowing his face in the junction of his collarbones, saying "I can't" over and over again. Harry runs a hand softly over his back but moves it to his hair once he sees Louis stiffen at the gesture, whispering sweet nothings in his ears.

When he's able to calm Louis even the tiniest bit down, he gets the courage to speak up once more. "Let me, then."

"Let you what?"

"Have control."

Louis takes his head out of Harry's neck with a questioning look. "What?"

"Just hear me out, okay?" Harry pleads once more and continues only when Louis nods at him. "I-I know I'm just a slave, but I'm your slave, I'm supposed to please you. So let me do so by taking such a burden off of your shoulders. Let me be good to my master."

Louis immediately shakes his head. "N-No. Not slave. Not your master. Just Louis, okay? Louis."

"Okay then," Harry consents and runs his hand soothingly through his hair. "Louis, let me take control for once. Let me take care of you".

Those words hit home and he looks into Harry's eyes, his own red rimmed and with bags under them yet still so beautiful. "Y-You'd do that?"

Instead of answering Harry makes him stand up for a moment and leads him to the master bed, softly laying him on it and pressing his lips onto Louis's in a way he hasn't experienced himself- sweetly. Louis lets out a small sound of satisfaction and awe similar to a whine as he responds back just as sweetly, moving his lips according to Harry's. He places a hand on Harry's cheek and instinctively to take hold and control but Harry pulls back before he can even try.

"No, no. I'll be the one in control today, okay? You just take what's being given to you."

Louis feels himself nod at the words and chases Harrys lips back onto his, wanting to experience the warm pit at the bottom of his stomach once more as Harry passionately kisses him. While he does so, he's taking off Louis's silky robe off in a slow pace before taking his own button-up shirt and pants without taking his lips away from Louis's. Louis sighs softly into Harry's mouth when he feels the cool breeze hit his hot tan skin, wrapping his arms once more around Harry's neck to bring him closer and meet the languid pace.

Once Harry's clothes are all off he separates a bit and leans back, wanting to admire Louis's beautiful body. The smaller lad shrinks under the attention, blushing fiercely when he sees Harry's gaze darken and lick his lips.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he murmurs before pressing soft kisses along his jaw and down the column of his throat, groaning softly when he feels Louis's tiny hands grip his hair in a need to grab something to keep himself calm as he bites and sucks lightly on the skin to make a hickey.

Louis's never been able to experience this, ever, and it feels so good. Louis actually loves this; he loves being taken care of, and not having to worry over everything, and trust someone enough to let him be. He doesn't it can get any better than this.

But apparently it can, Louis discovers once Harry kisses his nipples before licking the right one, circling around it before slightly sucking on it. Louis's back arches off of the best and his grip on Harry's hair tightens whilst letting out soft, breathy pants that are possibly the best thing Harry's ever heard.

He continues it for a while before doing the same with the other, biting it softly before enveloping it whole, sucking it while running his fingers over the previous one. "Ungh," Louis mumbles as his back keeps arching off and his grip just keeps tightening.

After Harry's done with them he lifts himself up a bit to kiss Louis on the lips chastely before going down once more and kissing his adorable slight tummy, licking into the bellybutton (to which Louis keens- something that delighted Harry to no end) and proceeding downward. He took his time with Louis's thighs- the soft, smooth, tan, thick wonders that drive him crazy almost as much as his bum-, peppering kisses and biting and sucking the delicious skin, only stopping when there's no other place left that he hasn't touched.

Harry looks at Louis now in search for approval, proceeding when the now vulnerable one nods confidently and leans back, his arms laying on the bed carelessly now, wanting to enjoy this while it lasts. The taller man grabs Louis's cock and licks the head smeared now with precum kittenishly, sucking around it just for a moment before licking fat stripes over the entire member.

"Ah, H-ha-, mnf," Louis makes out and Harry realizes this is the _first_ blowjob in all of his time as his slave that he gives Louis. He knows it has to be perfect, so he tongues at the slit before enveloping him wholly in his mouth.

Louis moans high and loud at the feeling and threads his hands in Harry's hair again, not to steer but to hold on to something. Harry bobs his head up and down languidly, hotly, tightly, his cheeks hollowed as he drives Louis's member in and out of his mouth in a repeatedly medium-speed pattern. Louis is absolutely keening, letting out little pants of "uh, uh" whenever he takes him in and out. When he sees his balls constricting he takes his mouth off and kisses down his thighs.

"W-What are you-" Harry kisses him before spreading his legs and leaning between them.

"Trust me, yeah?"

Louis hesitates but nods and sees Harry's head disappear. He wonders what he's doing when he suddenly feels a slick wet stripe over his clenching hole and fuck. Louis lets out a shriek of pleasure just from that small lick and his hands reach out to fiercely grip at the sheets. Harry's doing this expertly, sucking and biting on the rim before circling around it and pressing quick, moist drags over his hole.

He's lapping at it like a pro, occasionally delving it in teasingly to give Louis slight sparks of pleasure. Louis's trembling now, murmuring incoherent things as he hides his face in the sheets as the wet slurping sounds of Harry licking him out fill the room and make Louis even harder than he's ever been. Harry then completely thrusts his tongue into Louis's warm hole, now lapping at the sweet taste that is completely _Louis_. When he deems it fit, he inserts his index finger into his hole whilst relentlessly licking, his tongue gliding around the finger as he ups the ante from one to two and then to three. He's now fucking Louis earnestly with his three fingers while still licking around them, the fiery hot sensation blending in with the cool feeling of Harry's saliva soothingly.

"H-Harry, Harry, ungh," Louis murmurs and Harry stops his ministrations suddenly and lifts his head, his fingers still inside of Louis.

"What did you call me?" He asks, not quite sure he heard correctly.

"Harry," Louis brokenly answers. "That's your name, isn't it?"

Harry smiles hugely at the fact that this is the first time Louis calls him by his name and he's so fucking happy but one glance at the writhing man turns it into a wicked smirk. "Scream my name," he growls as he continues what he was doing but quickening his pace, his fingers roughly dragging in and out of Louis quickly, his tongue sloppily licking the area.

Louis keeps moaning Harry's name brokenly until he's far too close and the moans turn into screams. "Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry, HARRY!" He comes with that last scream with his chest heaving heavily up and down, his erratic breathing at his amazing orgasm.

Harry takes his fingers and tongue out of Louis's hole and leans back. Louis wraps his hands around Harry's neck and brings him down to kiss him breathlessly, wanting to transmit his feelings though it. Harry moans into his mouth and kisses back with as much meaning. They separate and look into each other's eyes.

"You sure you want to like this? My father will kill us."

"Screw your father," Harry murmurs and kisses Louis once more before slowly pushing himself in. Louis's eyes widen at the stretch and he moans as Harry enters him inch by inch. Once he's completely bottomed out, Louis squeals at the feeling of being _so freaking full_.

Not long after, Harry's earnestly fucking him, snapping his hips into him quickly, deeply yet not so hard. Almost… lovingly. All the while Louis's got his head thrown back in immense pleasure as Harry grunts into his neck and kisses every so often. He keeps thrusting into Louis's open legs, the smaller boy's body moving with the power of the thrusts, and he quickly finds his prostate. Louis's body quakes inhumanely, seeming as if he's convulsing at the pleasure as he's chanting "Harry, Harry, there, Harry _there_!" like a mantra, scratching his back with blunt nails, and Harry obliges. The taller keeps the pace roughly, silencing the screams from the man beneath him with a breathtaking kiss that makes the atmosphere turn into one much more intimate and close- and neither of the two quite hate it.

Louis comes for the second time, then, when he feels Harry's thrusts getting sloppy and his kiss messy, yet it was all perfect and Harry comes right after.

When Harry finishes he takes his cock out of Louis and leans down once more between the separated legs and licks all of his come out of a whining Louis, wanting to leave him clean and perfect (and also to take himself inside of Louis, and that alone makes him get semi-hard). After he's done licking all of it out he lies right next to Louis, whose eyes are a bit crossed and his breathing much shallower than ever before.

"I think," Louis whispers with not much strength in his voice. "I think that was the most intense orgasm I've ever had in my life."

Harry laughs and turns his head to kiss his cheek, nosing at it when he hears his soft voice whisper "Thank you."

Harry at first stiffens, this being the first time he's heard a master thank him. "You're welcome."

They lay in silence together for a while before a weak voice breaks it. "You, uh, you're not going to sell me, right?"

"I could never," Louis assures him softly. "I'm much too fond of you."

Harry settles on his side to look straight at Louis with a mischievous smile, his eyebrows wriggling ridiculously. "You're quite fond of me, eh?"

"Oh shut up," Louis says yet leans over and kisses him chastely, and maybe things aren't okay, maybe they won't be, but it's worth it.

Or so he hopes.

**Author's Note:**

> SO I HOPE THIS SERVED AS A LESSON ♥
> 
> Dominant =/= Top
> 
> Submissive =/= Bottom
> 
> Comments and kudos are extremely appreciated ♥♥♥ and follow me on [soulflares](http://soulflares.tumblr.com)


End file.
